


RUBATOSIS

by CanadianAnchor



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Gen, Hello Blade how are you today I see you reading this fic, I'm gonna regret this one day, I'm sorry for the character tags, Low-key making this up as I go, M/M, Temporary Character Death, no beta we die like men, super powers, the title is a wip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28619739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanadianAnchor/pseuds/CanadianAnchor
Summary: “RUBATOSIS:The unsettling awareness of your heartbeat, whose tenuous muscular throbbing feels less like a metronome than a nervous ditty your heart is tapping to itself, the kind that people compulsively hum or sing while walking in complete darkness as if to casually remind the outside world, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here."She, on dark wings, roared her deliverance to the empty sky like a thunderclap. The Ender Dragon flying high on willpower and the desire for life fought tooth and nail. She'd slain before. She'd do it again and again and again if she had to.It wasn't enough.A group of three men celebrated their victory.Ranboo slipped into the swirling portal with an egg clutched to his chest, heart pounding.The Ender Dragon, in all her glory didn't survive. But her child might.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 111





	RUBATOSIS

Purpled was a good kid. He did what he had to do with minimal regret. He was also an orphan, no surprise there. You learn the streets, weaving through the kingdom’s maze without a blink. He watched as two kids sprinted down the street, loaves of bread in their hands, obviously stolen. A baker shouted down after them, waving his meaty hands violently. 

They were going to get caught, Purpled knew, as he jumped down from the terracotta roof. His sneakers landed with a familiar  _ thump  _ on the cobble. His worn pack jostled precariously from the loose strap on his shoulder. The scent of morning dew filled his nose, mixed with sharp iron and something he couldn’t quite place. This was the quieter part of the sprawling kingdom, the places traveling families usually took their children.

No one ever stays. 

Hypixel, for all its glory and proclaimed beauty, was more than just a family-friendly server for the wayward traveler. It was the home for the infamous “Mini-games,” as lighthearted as the name sounded, it was anything but safe, not to mention illegal. 

It was often the last resort for many to stay afloat. Where one gambled with their life to make enough money to get them through. Purpled was a competitor, has been for years. He’s made a reputation for himself, building his skills, knowledge, money, and win streak. He’s no stranger to driving a sword through someone’s gut with little regard. 

Purpled was a good kid, he believed that.

He passed down a cobblestone alley, emerging on the other side silently. He wove his way through the pedestrians, stopping in front of a small bakery he visited quite often. He pushed open the birch doors, the bell ringing above as he stepped inside. It was a light and bubbly environment with colorful walls, a white floor, and rainbow-tinted windows. Smalls tables were stationed around the area, of which Purpled passed to his destination of the birch counter where the transactions were made. He was familiar with the place and its people, some more so than others. Turns out being a frequent customer gave one some benefits, that being cheaper prices. 

“Good morning, Purpled!” an older darkly skinned woman emerged from the kitchen, one whose hair looked like it came out of the ’70s. She had a bright easy smile and a pale apron tied around her pink dress. “The usual?”

Purpled nodded in which she bent down to the glass display case that presented their goods to the right. “Slow business today, Lydia?” he leaned against the birchwood counter. “Usually you have more customers.”

She laughed easily, waving away the question. “I honestly wonder whether you live under a rock. Don’t you know the festival is only a week away?” Her silky hair, only held back by a pink headband, swayed as she stood straight, closing the glass display case closed. “Everyone’s been so excited about decorating and all.”

Maybe Purpled had been living under some sort of metaphorical rock. He wracked his brain trying to recall what  _ the festival _ was. There always seemed to be a new event going on every month, which one could it be now? Of course, he hasn’t missed the numerous streamers decorated the streets and main square. 

She seemed to take pity on his suffering. “The Dragon Festival, Purpled,” Lydia placed a calloused hand on her hip. “Y’know… only the most popular festival ever that occurs only once every six years?” 

Purpled made an  _ ahhh _ sound, nodding in vague recognition. The Dragon Festival was probably one of the most celebrated holidays, held only once every six years and the location changed every time. It’s one of the eldest holidays, first celebrated when all the dragons had been successfully driven out of the overworld. With all the hype it seems Hypixel was bestowed the honor to host it this year. 

“Not really my thing,” Purpled admitted half-heartedly. It was true, he wasn’t one for festivals but he had to admit they more often than not brought rich people with them. When you were a participant in the Games rich people meant one thing, sponsors. Rich people would sponsor whoever they thought would win, and sponsors meant money. 

And who was he to deny an extra emerald or two?

Lydia placed down the three baked potatoes on the counter shaking her head. “Whatever you say Purpled.”

The blonde smiled cheekily, pushing over a few gold bars he’d dug out of his backpack and taking the food for himself. “Thanks, Lydia, you’re the best!” he waved and pushed back through the door to the outside world. The sun was noticeably higher despite the short amount of time spent indoors. 

Two children rushed past him, their laugher high pitched and a little obnoxious. A mother scrambled after them in a flurry, leaving rushed apologies to anyone she happened to bump on the way. 

Purpled munched on his baked potato thoughtfully, stepping onto the cobbled street. He carefully sidestepped a dusty brown horse, admiring the black and purple decorations. They were going all out this time. Food, a breeze, and the warming sun on his shoulders felt through the vibrant purple of this hoodie. The usual, nothing out of place.

He lazily made his way toward the center of the server, nodding to a couple of people he recognized on the way. The baked potato from Lydia sat warmly in his belly by the time he arrived at his destination. His purple sneakers scuffed the ground as he faux considered the choices. 

A policeman shot him a dirty look out of the corner of his eye. Purpled paid it no mind. As illegal as the games were, they were implemented in almost every server across the platform. People took joy in watching it from their communicators that every player spawned with. Some competitors chose to stream it, to allow people to experience it with them. Rich people funded the games, helping build it into the empire it became. As much as the authorities hated it… what could they do?

Nothing, that was what. And Purpled as on orphan whose only income was the games… well, he wasn’t about to insinuate anything else. 

Purpled smiled confidently, stepping forward towards Bedwars, his most favorite out of all the games.

In a blink of an eye, the world fell away to blackness, and all feeling and thought left his body. There was a singular moment of awareness in the suffocating silence that  _ oh I’m in the void _ before the world with a roar suddenly rushed back. He stumbled as his feet suddenly met the glass flooring of the waiting room. Vibrant colors jumped to his eyes, filling the pressing blackness from the void. 

He resisted the now-familiar urge to hurl out the baked potato from this morning over the fence.

Spawning, no matter how you did it, wasn’t a pleasant experience by any means. There was one singular thing every player feared. That thing was The Void. A vast black nothingness where body, thought and everything in between didn’t exist. It gave Purpled the shivers.

He watched the fading sun on the horizon, casting golden rays onto the players. Some of them paced around muttering to themselves, some of them leaning against the oak pillars. These rounds were shorter, more of a practice. If you logged in to any of the mini-games after 6 pm it would register you for the serious rounds. The ones people came to watch and the rich people funded. The ones where Purpled  _ dominated. _ Even now other players were giving him wary side-eyes.

He shrugged off his backpack, a weight he was so used to that he forgot it was there. Purpled deftly fished out his communicator, a rectangular device that hit into his hand. The screen lit up under his fingers like it was eager for use. He plugged in white earbuds and turned up some music, upbeat tunes filling his head. Maybe he pulled a few dance moves, maybe not. 

A breeze tousled his dirty blonde hair, filtering past the lyrics of his music. He bopped his head easily. Music was popular in all forms, either through a classic jukebox or one’s device. Some saw it as a distraction, others saw it as a deliverance. Either way, music was a banger invention. Purpled had to give kudos to whoever came up with the thing.

Out of the corner of his eye, a player experimentally punched the wood of the lobby. It cracked under her fist, an impossible feat. 

_ Strength,  _ his mind whispered.

That was one of the catches of existence. Everyone was born with a skill, a quirk,  _ something _ . Purpled’s something was mini-explosions. He could control how big or small he made them… usually. When he was spooked sometimes he’d make a little crater at his feet.

Then he was in a hollowed-out cave, gold spawning underneath him, a singular red bed at the head of the floating island.

He allowed a confident, maybe cocky smirk to make its way across his face.

The game was afoot.

He quickly grabbed the gold, exchanging it for red blocks and a decent sword. He built up his bed defense and added a trap. Easy enough.

A glance around (yellow was building toward the middle). He was safe.

Purpled bridged toward the diamond island nearest, grabbing what he could. As he ran back across an arrow narrowly grazed his back. Someone was shooting him. Good to know.

He bridged up, making his way to the base next to him. They didn’t know he was coming. He willed his hand to be steady. 

The player, clad in standard armor, looked up. Checkmate.

He dropped down and lashed out. The opponent pounded at his chest with a sword. Purpled ducked and parried, jumping over the bed defense.

He broke the bed easily, the familiar roar sounding to every player in the game. The player slashed at his back. Purpled hiss in pain, his sword cutting through the air. The opponent went down easily. One team was eliminated. 

Purpled let out a  _ whoop! _ and let the blood rush through his ears and body. Electric adrenaline snapping at his nerves.

He stole the gold, exchanging it with the villager for a better sword before bridging toward the middle. He soundly sprinted across the largest island, the middle one. Purpled gathered emeralds, carrying them easily. 

A sharp swing of a sword interrupted him. He felt pain flash through his arm. Purpled brought out his sword, lucking, and fighting back. Their swords clashed. A jarring  _ clang  _ filled his ears. He swept out a leg, pushing the opponent back and off the edge of the map before moving on. They’d respawn, it didn’t matter.

He got better gear, making his way toward the next team. A distant roar sounded. A team was eliminated. Blue was wide open, the player out doing who knows what. Purpled smiled. An easy target all things considered.

Purpled rushed forward, breaking the wool and destroying the bed. Childs play. He moved on to the next base. Their bed came away under his fingers, the wool ripping to shreds. Its player came back, stabbing at his chest sending pain flashing through him. Purpled willed an explosion under his palms, sending the player back over the edge with a scream.

Then a roar and an unnerving  _ knowledge  _ about what happened. His bed was destroyed. He whirled around, narrowing his eyes. It was the women from before.

_ Strength, _ the whispers recalled. She had a strength that flowed through her. 

Purpled grit his teeth and started building, she built toward him as well. They met in the middle with a  _ CLANG. She, without even a sword, rushed forward on the 2 blocks wide path they’d both made, red bleeding into green. He scrambled to swing at her. She yelled as it hit. He cried out as she shoved him, tumbling off the edge. He threw an ender pearl, handing firmly and striking out. She threw a punch to his chin. He felt hot iron blood drip from his nose. In a ditch effort, he summoned an explosion from his palms and forced them outward. An ear-shattering BOOM sounded in his ears and he was blown back.  _

His ears rang and he coughed. A victory message flashed across his vision. He smiled, allowing himself a small victory celebration. The world fell under his feet again and then he was back at the HUB. 

The same policeman from before side-eyed him. Purpled ignored him. He heaved a breath, the sun on the horizon dipped low into the sea. Fresh air filled his lungs and he smiled. Another victory for himself. 

He shouldered his backpack, walking out of the HUB and into the main street. He took out the second baked potato, devouring it. He was famished. Purpled took out his earbuds, powering off his communicator, and then-

“Purpled!” a female voice called. Lydia.

Purpled turned around with an easy smile. “Lydia good to see you again. Why are you out?” 

She laughed, her pink dress no longer held tight by her apron flowed around her ankles. “I thought I’d catch you out of a match and show you something-” her eyes flashed “interesting.”

It was safe to say Purpled’s curiosity was piqued. “Care to share with the class?”

Lydia wordlessly handed him a rolled-up paper, obviously torn from the announcement board of the Village. Purpled made a show of unfolding it, smoothing out the wrinkles from the parchment.

His heart stopped.

“Is- Lydia is this real?” he stuttered out.

“As real as a heart attack,” she affirmed.

He glanced back at the headline in wonder. There, as bold as can be written in the biggest font possible shown the bone-chilling words;

**THE ENDER DRAGON KILLED**

**Author's Note:**

> NAJAJAJSWKSKDKDKSKSLDD
> 
> OKAY YEAH HI HERE I AM THANK YOU FOR READING THIS TRAINWRECK
> 
> https://discord.gg/9vrZfJW3DU
> 
> Join?


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